


Just Add Skirt (And Some Eyeliner Can't Hurt)

by mrsronweasley



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsronweasley/pseuds/mrsronweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lindsey decides to clean out their closets, Gerard gets some ideas. Sexy times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Add Skirt (And Some Eyeliner Can't Hurt)

**Author's Note:**

> Dear redscarfe, I loved your art and I really, really hope you enjoy this fic! With huge thanks to my wonderful betas brooklinegirl and mistresscurvy for their totally invaluable input and awesome cheerleading. I love you a LOT, ladies. ♥

Lindsey's nails dug into his biceps as he brought her off with his fingers. Sunday mornings at home were the best. Sunday mornings when Mikey and Alicia would take B over for a sleepover the night before were even better.

Lindsey's breath ghosted over Gerard's face in tiny gusts as she came down and squirmed until he finally slipped his fingers from her cunt. His hand was soaked with her. 

He hummed and licked his fingers, half for show, half for himself. 

She laughed and blew hair out of her face. “Breakfast of champions." Her voice was still sleep-hazy, rough around the edges. 

He grinned around his fingers, then slipped them out and leaned down to kiss her, his hand landing on her belly, soft and sticky with sweat. “You know it," he whispered against her mouth. 

They both tasted like her and sleep, a little gross when mixed all together like that, but Gerard didn't mind. He hummed and moved until he was on top of her, careful not to squish her tits in the process. 

She huffed out a tiny laugh, spreading her knees and squeezing her thighs around him. “Good job, baby," she murmured and moaned, throwing her head back as he slipped inside her. 

He fucking _loved_ lazy morning fucks. He moved inside her slowly, their hands clasped over her head, bodies waking up slowly with each movement. He buried his face in her neck, her hair blocking out the light, and groaned. “Fuck, yeah."

He loved coming inside her.

*

“Ugh, I don't _wanna_ ," Gerard whined, throwing a pillow over his head and lying very, very still.

“You're gonna, though," Lindsey insisted from the foot of the bed. He heard her shifting around for her panties, then the quiet sounds of her slipping into her clothes. “Come on, B will be back in, like, an hour, and then we won't be any time at all, and I want to get it done."

Gerard sniffed under his pillow. He'd _just_ come back from touring. Like, last week. Hadn't he earned a Sunday with nothing to do?

“Gee, c'mon." Lindsey pinched his left toe. “Don't be a baby."

“Ow, stop it." He peered at her from under the pillow. Her hair was still crazy, a blond nest with dark roots around her face. She wore yesterday's black panties. Her tits pushed up against the thin white tank top in a way that made him want to grab her and pin her back to the bed. He sighed. “Okay. Only if I get to bring coffee with me." 

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Yes, Gerard. You can bring your coffee into the closet."

“Thank you." He threw his pillow at her. “But you're a slave driver," he added as she caught the pillow and threw it back at him, laughing.

“I know, baby. C'mon. Up and at ‘em."

Gerard groaned dramatically and went looking for his own underwear.

*

Gerard scratched his head and leaned against the closet door, blinking. “Why are we doing this again?" he asked his cup of coffee.

“Because," Lindsey answered, swishing hangers towards the front of the closet and turning to do the same on the other side. “We don't have infinite closet space and we need to clear this shit out. We're sorting, okay?" She peered at him from behind a yellow dress. “Cool?"

He sighed. “What if I don't _wanna_ get rid of my old clothes?"

She rolled her eyes and spread out more hangers. “Then we'll start a pile of shit Gee doesn't wanna get rid of, put it all in a bag, and toss it in storage. I just need more space in here, and B's closet is next, by the way." She squinted at the top shelves, fingers drumming against her mouth.

“This is the biggest closet we've ever had, Linds. How much more room do you _need_?" Besides the costume closet in the guest room. That closet might have been bigger, actually.

“Exactly!" She made another decisive movement and then her arms were filled with about a thousand shirts and skirts Gerard had forgotten all about. “If we can't keep our everyday clothes to this closet, I will kill myself. Maybe us both." She huffed as she threw the pile of clothes out into the bedroom. “Here, take this." Gerard barely caught his favorite old jacket. “We'll start your pile with that."

*

“Oh, man," Gerard breathed as he pulled out a grey vest. “Remember this one?"

Lindsey grinned at him from her own pile. “What, that old thing?"

He grinned back and ran his hands over the fabric, smooth with overuse and age. “You were so fucking hot that night," he said, setting it aside. “We're not getting rid of it."

“Fuck no," she said, sorting through her pile of jeans. “It'll go into the costume closet, I think we've still got room in there…"

Gerard beamed and took another sip of his coffee.

*

“Oh my God, look at this!" Gerard plucked a skirt from Lindsey's pile. “You're not getting rid of that, right?"

“Gee, sort your own shit, come on. B'll be home any minute." 

This was definitely not going as fast as Lindsey had probably hoped it would. Gerard could admit it was largely his fault. While he was busy meandering down memory lane and drinking coffee, Lindsey had already sorted through about thirty articles of clothing, ranging from “definitely keeping this" to “this is the skankiest thing I've ever smelled but we're not getting rid of it because memories." Gerard was still pawing through his shirts, trying to decide which one he was going to throw out just to appease her. He was obviously keeping all of this.

“No, no, but _look_!" He set down his coffee and swung her old plaid skirt around. “I miss this one. It should stay accessible," he decided out loud, thoughts already kind of whirling in his head.

“Uh-huh," Lindsey replied without looking up. “Wait, oh, check this out –“

The doorbell rang. They looked at each other, Gerard's hopeful expression meeting Lindsey's exasperated one. “Guess we're done for now," she said, clearly laughing at him, and hopped up to get the door. Gerard grabbed the skirt and tucked it under all of the clothes he was keeping before following her to greet his baby girl.

*

It wasn't until well after he played every game involving B and paint brushes imaginable and was scrubbing the paint off in the shower that he remembered, and considered the possibilities.

“So, you know that skirt," he whispered later that night just as Lindsey had started to drift off. 

“Mmm?" She shifted her shoulders and turned her face to nose at the crook of his neck. Gerard let his fingers run idly over her belly, just above the line of her panties, then drew in a breath filled with her smell. 

“You think I could, like, fit into that? Like I did with your jacket?" 

She huffed out a laugh and turned over onto her side, bringing his hand with her, drawing him into spooning her head to toe. 

“That's not an answer," he reminded her quietly, everything suddenly tingling, like his blood somehow shifted closer to the surface, drawing itself towards Lindsey like the tide and the moon. He felt a little bad, knowing how tired she was, but he couldn't help rubbing his half-hard dick against her soft ass, just a little. He bit his lip to keep the sounds in.

“Mmm, okay," she mumbled, voice husky and soft. “B's going on another sleepover next weekend," she added a little more coherently, and Gerard shifted even closer, feeling the hairs on his legs and arms stand up, almost scorching against her skin. 

“Cool," he answered and willed himself to relax and let her go to sleep. 

He couldn't fall asleep for a long time. 

*

Gerard felt a little bit stunned around the ears. Nothing big, he just hadn't quite been expecting Lindsey to turn around as the door closed behind Mikey and B and tell him that she was going to the guest room to get ready.

“You've got our bedroom and bathroom," she had added, and strode down the hall, her jeans-clad ass swishing back and forth in a deliberate way that would have forced him to pop a boner if he'd been a teenager.

Now he stood in front of the mirror in their bathroom, watching his own face go through a cycle of various emotions, going from excited to slightly freaked out to excited and really fucking turned on. He leaned in closer. His eyes were definitely dilating and contracting as he watched. He wondered just what, exactly, she was doing over there.

Were they gonna _match_? His eyes glazed over a little bit at the idea of him and Lindsey in matching skirts and boots and -

Right, okay. He needed to focus. It wasn't like he hadn't been _prepared_ , exactly. He'd measured some things, figured out what would work, what wouldn't. Acted like he hadn't noticed her leaving a pair of her old boots by his bedside table a few days ago. They'd been a tight fit, and hurt like hell, but if he was going to do it, he was going to do it all the way.

He turned away from the mirror and slipped out of his clothes, piece by piece. The t-shirt went, so did his jeans. He slipped his socks off – they wouldn't have worked with the outfit.

His underwear came off last.

He stood shivering, despite the night being perfectly and comfortably warm. For a moment, he was paralyzed with indecision: make-up or clothes first? Then experience finally kicked in and he cracked his neck a few times.

He'd done this before. He had this.

He picked up her panties. They were black, practical, since stage-wear had demanded it, but on Gerard, they felt anything but. Slowly, carefully, he slipped first one leg through, then the next. The fabric swished up his thighs until it touched his balls and encased his dick.

Definitely a tighter fit than he was used to. Gerard winced and adjusted himself, squirming in all kinds of ways that sent weird signals to his brain and body. When he was finally all in, he ran his fingers over the thin strip of lace around his belly. It scratched his fingers. He wondered if it would leave imprints on him the way it did with Lindsey, right when her belly had begun to swell with pregnancy.

Gerard chewed on his lip, mesmerized by the feel of it, then reached for the tank top. 

It occurred to him that they hadn't set a – a plan, or anything. Just that Lindsey had something in mind, too, and then she left so quickly, he'd forgotten to ask how long he was meant to take.

Tank top gripped in one hand, he dug his phone out of his discarded jeans and texted:

_how long do I have, where should I meet you_

He hesitated – was it stupid to make a plan? Should he have just gone along with whatever? – then hit send. Whatever. It wasn't as if Lindsey had ever expected him to play it cool at any point in their relationship.

He slipped the tank top over his head, tugging it down over his chest until it finally gave. Weird how, even with the stretch of her boobs, the top was still snugger on him than he'd expected. He peered into the mirror. Maybe he had more of a chest than he'd thought. 

He looked – kind of hot. He saw his own shoulders looked stronger around the spaghetti straps, and his hips looked – not fuller, but still somehow just a touch more feminine, as if her panties brought out the fact that he wasn't exactly the most masculine dude around. He tilted his head. His thighs looked much the same as always, pale and round, knees bruised all to shit, as always. Still, he liked that they felt different like this. He squinted. His overall shape didn't change, he was still more guy than anything else, but he was a guy in a girl's clothing. The bruises on his knees and shins stood out stark and bright against his skin, and he loved the echo of Lindsey in himself.

He ran his hand through his messy red hair and grinned. Yeah. Make-up was definitely next.

He'd never been really precise with his make-up, because it wasn't like he had hours and hours to spend on it, anyway, so he'd just smudge it all to shit and call it a day. Okay, so he _had_ spent hours and hours on it, back when he was an angry teen living in his parents' basement, but somehow, in all of his experimentation, he'd never fully learned the art of the cat-eye.

But he was an artist, and if there was one thing he had learned in the last five years, it was the precise shape of Lindsey's eyes. Every line, every crease, ever molecule that made up her almond eyes, was familiar. 

He got to work.

No different than painting, really. Or even inking. All he had to do was follow the line of his eye, exaggerating the shape. One line, two, three… Fill it in. Blink. Fill it in more. 

He blinked again and pulled back to survey his work. One huge, black-rimmed eye watched him back. He grinned, feeling a tingling somewhere in his belly and toes, and slowly repeated the process on the other eye, taking care to match it. It was always the same problem when drawing, really – symmetrical eyes, symmetrical faces. Symmetry had never been his strong suit.

It wasn't until he was done that he heard the vibration of a new text. He fumbled for his phone, dropping the liquid eyeliner into the sink in the process, hearing it clink against the porcelain.

_meet me in the living room whenever you're done, I'll wait._

There was a picture attached. Gerard squinted at the screen, unable to figure just what the picture was _of_. Dark and blurry and – yeah, that was all he could make out. Hmm.

Okay. He had time, this he knew. Looking back on his own reflection, he automatically put mascara on to exaggerate the eye even more. His eyelashes extended beyond their regular length. He watched his own eyes for a while before turning silently away and reaching for Lindsey's lipstick. Just like her boots, she just happened to leave it out for him last night, as if leaving him a trail of clues by which to please her.

Amazing how she had managed to turn his idea into a play of her own. 

Gerard opened the tube up and frowned, working slowly. He had to get it just right, was the thing. It had to be perfect.

He slowly slipped the lipstick closed and blotted his lips the way he'd seen Lindsey do a million times. After a moment's pause, he let the tissue fall onto the vanity. Let Lindsey find it later. In fact – he surveyed the mess that he'd created in a relatively short amount of time – let her find all of this, afterwards. He'd leave her a trail of his own.

With deliberate slowness, he unzipped her skirt and stepped into it. It was the red plaid one that he'd first seen her in. As much a pack rat as him, really – she was just less obvious about it somehow. It took a couple of tries, but once he'd gotten it zipped, he couldn't stop staring down. 

He hadn't bothered to shave, but the sight of his bare legs under the short skirt still gave him a weird, disjointed feeling. He felt – different. Stronger, in a weird way. He shifted his weight from leg to leg, then turned to face the full-length mirror deliberately for the first time.

He wasn't done, he knew, but he had already been transformed. Heavy red lips, darkened eyes, spaghetti straps, her skirt. He didn't _look_ like Lindsey, that hadn't been the point. But he felt, well, kind of beautiful. 

The final touches went on with him firmly not looking in any mirror until he was done. The socks, the vest, which almost created the illusion of breasts and fit him in a way he hadn't quite been expecting. He had a waist – a high waist, a thin waist, like when he'd worn her jacket on stage.

The boots killed, but they were worth it. 

In the end, he surprised himself by not wanting to see the final picture. He glanced around the bathroom one last time, making sure that he hadn't forgotten any aspect of his outfit, then hit the lights and carefully stepped out into their darkened bedroom.

*

He was kind of really glad that Lindsey hadn't seen him stumble upstairs to the living room in her boots. He tried to focus on the way his thighs touched as he walked instead, and the way his lips tasted like Lindsey's. His toes pinched and his heels sweated, but by the time he made his way up, he had almost mastered the walk, his thighs and calves adjusting to the heel.

When he finally emerged into the living room, he was feeling good again. 

And then his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he saw _her_. His breath caught.

She was lounging on the couch, completely dressed. 

Completely dressed in Gerard's clothes. Gerard's jeans, Gerard's shirt – the one he should really have been retiring from stage, but was having a hard time letting go – Gerard's leather jacket, Gerard's leather boots.

Gerard's half of their necklace.

Lindsey's own crooked smile, her hair tied up into a messy blond ponytail. She looked hot as hell.

“Shit," he breathed, and took a step closer. “You're –“

“Fucking hell, look at you," Lindsey said at the same time, just as quiet as him. For some reason, the dark always made them whisper like that, born out of long bus trips between stops, quiet sex in their bunks, the road lulling beneath their bodies. 

Gerard made his way over to her, making sure to swish his hips as much as he could while still staying upright, and grinned down. “You like what you see?" 

She caught the edge of his skirt and bit her lower lip. “Maybe. You?"

He watched as she shifted, spreading her arms around the back of the couch. Her tits swayed with the motion. Neither one of them was wearing a bra. “Yeah. Yeah, I do," he told her.

She grinned and before Gerard could steady himself, tugged him down hard. He landed half on the couch, half on her, hands flying to the back of the couch to brace himself. Nose to nose with Lindsey, he saw her eyes crinkling. “Hot, right?" she whispered before kissing him, open-mouthed and tasting like sex itself. Gerard moaned and slipped his knees further apart, letting Lindsey take control. 

She wasn't really giving him an option. Her hands had grabbed his hips and were now steadying him just over her crotch, tantalizingly close and not enough. Like a kick to his gut, his dick grew hard trapped in her panties. He tingled with that delicious pressure of needing to be touched, of needing to stick it in somewhere, needing _some_ relief. 

He moaned and extricated himself from the kiss just long enough to push back and ask, “So, do I pass inspection?" His voice had come out a little unsteadier than he'd meant it to.

Lindsey smiled at him, almost sweetly, and leaned in to catch his lips again. “You're the prettiest," she breathed. Slowly, so slowly he barely felt it happen, she lifted up her hips and thrust up. He felt the strength in her thighs before he felt anything else, and then –

“Fuck, are you –“ She was. “You're _packing_ ," he groaned and dropped his head onto her chest, panting. His dick was throbbing under the panties. “Shit, that's – oh fuck –“

He felt Lindsey's chest rising with shallow, panting breaths. “Special just for you," she whispered and thrust up against him. “Want it?"

“ _Fuck_ yes."

She always, _always_ knew.

*

“Where do you wanna be?" Lindsey breathed against his mouth while they stumbled up and somehow sideways, hands flying everywhere, stopping just short of ripping off clothes. 

“Anywhere," Gerard replied, feeling his lipstick smearing under her kisses, “Bed. Let's do bed."

“Oh good," she panted and steered him, walking backwards. “Bed is good. Bed is, _fuck_ , bed is great."

*

“Wait, wait, wait –“

Lindsey stumbled over the threshold, then gripped the wall. 

“Wait, I wanna – I wanna look at you –“

She flipped the lights on. Gerard blinked and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. When he opened them, he battled the fleeting urge to cover himself up, then ran a hand through his hair and gave Lindsey a smile, instead. Then he cocked his hip. At least she'd flicked the lights onto their lowest setting.

“Well?"

She was running a hand over her mouth, grinning back at him impishly, eyes huge and laughing. Her lips were smudged red with his lipstick. “Hot," she told him. “C'mere." She held out her hands to him, but he shook his head and tilted it to the side.

He watched her back, instead. Under his scrutiny, she slouched – hands on her relaxed hips, feet planted firmly on the ground. She didn't _look_ that different, not really. She wore tight jeans, leather jackets, and boots on a regular basis. 

But this – this was different, anyway. She was wearing _his_ jeans, and her thighs shaped them in a way he'd never seen before. His jacket was a touch big overall, but it made her shoulders look wide, and tough, like she could do anything, take anything. It was pretty fucking sexy. His t-shirt sagged down and he wanted to spread the jacket open, see the points her nipples made in the fabric. See the way it clung to her breasts. He knew the feel of that shirt so well, the soft and thin material faded, comfortable, like a second skin. 

His gaze ran down until he could see the clear outline of her dick in his jeans. His own dick had made a pretty good home for itself in those jeans, and she filled it out now in a way that sent a weird shiver down his spine, like a warning. Dangerous, sexy, familiar. Not that familiar – they'd only ever played with her dick a few times, but now his body remembered, it wanted it again. Every nerve woke up under his skin at the memory, plucking its way to the surface. Yeah, _fuck_ yeah. 

“Hard or soft?" he asked, his voice going a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat. His dick swelled even harder inside the panties, and he wanted to look down, just to see if it was pushing forward, obvious under the fabric of the skirt, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Lindsey long enough.

She raised an eyebrow at him and ran one hand down her crotch. “Which do you think?"

Gerard had known the second his eyes made out the bulge, but he didn't want to say it. Instead, he sauntered over the three steps that separated them, led by his cock, and kissed her ear, hand going right for her crotch.

 _Yes._ “Mmmm."

“Okay?" she breathed, just the merest hint of her bravado slipping, a nervousness creeping in.

“Oh fuck, yes," he groaned. He loved the soft pack, loved when she used to walk around the house in her panties and soft cock, but this – something he knew she could bend him over and fuck him with, this got his blood going in a way that almost scared him. For all of his posturing on stage, he'd only ever let one person stick it in him, and she was kissing him now, strong hands running down his sides, unyielding. 

He almost stopped breathing when her hands slipped down his ass and under the skirt, pausing at the tops of his thighs. “Sexy," she mumbled, curving a single finger under his – her – _his_ – panties.

“I know," he panted, squirming under her touch. He wanted her hot hand on his dick so bad. He thrust mindlessly forward, seeking contact, but a firm hand grabbed his hair and tugged him back, hard.

“What do you want me to do to you?" she asked, eyes half-lidded, darker than her usual brown. Gerard's scalp stung in a way that made him want _more_ -more of that, more of _everything_ \- but he forced himself to really consider her question. He knew she wasn't just playing around. She wanted to _know._

He skidded light fingertips up the leather of his own jacket, then stroked under it and pressed his palms against her sides, over the t-shirt. If he spread his hands out enough, he could feel warm skin against his pinkies where the t-shirt gaped. He gripped her tight. Their eyes were locked. 

“I want you to watch me," he managed through the tightness in his throat. “I want you to lie back on the bed and look at me." He licked his lips just as her fist tightened in his hair. “And then I want you to fuck me." He took a long swallow. He could see her eyes watching his neck. 

“Okay," she breathed, then let go of his hair so fast, the blood rushed back into his scalp the next moment. He felt dizzy, lurching, out of breath. Lindsey didn't seem to notice as she turned on her heel and strode over to the bed, climbing onto the covers, boots and all. He watched as she lay back against the headboard, shoulders relaxed, legs spread open, deceptively casual. 

Waiting.

Gerard just stood there. He hadn't really known what he'd meant when he told her he wanted her to watch him, but now that she _was_ , he realized it didn't matter. He just wanted her to _see._

He bit his lip and grinned, throwing his head back, hands going to his hips. He could feel where the tightness of the vest created a waist, then his fingers slipped down until he was caressing his own ass over the skirt. Lindsey sat unmoving on the bed, but he could see her knuckles defined as she fisted the covers. He licked his lips deliberately and ran his hands slowly over to the front, until he was grazing his dick through the skirt. Temptation got the best of him and he glanced down, looking at the way his cock pushed the plaid material.

_Fuck._

He raised his head and met Lindsey's dark eyes before striding over to the bed and putting one knee up. Their sheets were always soft to the touch, but just then, they felt scratchy, like everything about him was overly sensitive, too tender to the touch. 

“You're so pretty," Lindsey whispered, sitting up enough to wrap her arms around her knees. She looked so fucking hot like that, but Gerard needed her to move now. He slipped a finger over his knee and up, until the skirt bunched under his palm. Lindsey watched his movements like he was unwrapping a mystery and not a body she knew almost as well as her own. He fucking loved that, loved how a _skirt_ could create illusion and shadow, make unknown the shape of a familiar thigh. 

She was still when she murmured, “You have such pretty fucking legs, baby."

He swept hair from his face with a free hand and swung the other leg onto the bed in a pretty sweet move, actually, both knees digging into the duvet, just balanced on the bed. His whole body was issuing a challenge, but he couldn't really speak. He breathed in expectation as Lindsey's gaze swept up to meet his, then skittered down until she was looking at his skirt again, the obvious shape of his dick underneath it. 

“Shit." Her voice sounded tight and Gerard waited. 

She lunged forward and balanced on her knees, hands going immediately for his thighs. She watched her own fingers skimming over his legs, and he gasped when she scratched long twin lines up the insides of his thighs. _Oh_ , fuck. His dick throbbed, and he – he felt huge. Unstoppable. Powerful. Without thinking, he palmed himself, just a touch, just to feel _something_ and Lindsey made a noise in her throat and grabbed his hands. 

“Wait, come – come here –“

She maneuvered herself until she was propped up against the headboard and the next second, Gerard was in her grip, crotch to face.

“Like this," she breathed, and snapped the panties on his cock in her rush to blow him.

Oh, fuck, oh _fuck._ The material got stuck between his thighs and he almost fell backwards, but Lindsey had him, as she slipped her mouth over his dick. He felt his own voice breaking in his throat. _Fuck_ , yeah. He slapped the wall with one hand, bracing himself. 

She was so fucking good at giving head, and she knew what he liked. She rarely teased him with tongue, not when they were both fucking desperate for it. Half of his dick disappeared into her mouth straight off the bat, and she sucked him hard and fast. He anchored his other hand on the crown of her head and it moved with her rhythm. He didn't know where to look – at his dick, where it met her full lips again and again, the skirt that was bunched at his belly, or at how big his hand looked in her hair, all the flesh and bone standing out in relief. He scraped his nails down her scalp and shut his eyes completely. 

And then he gasped in surprise as she pulled off. Gerard looked down, feeling wild and desperate, and caught her huge, laughing eyes before she grinned and dragged him down, prodding his body until he was forced onto all fours in front of her. 

He caught the flash of her teeth as she bit her lip and grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand. Her other hand was busy undoing her fly. 

_Oh fuck,_ the thought. And then it hit him – she'd sent him a picture of exactly what he was seeing now – dark bulge against the darker jeans.

Gerard grinned back and relished the tightness of her fist in his hair as she pulled him down to her crotch. She wasn't wearing his underwear. She was wearing _no_ underwear, and instead, he saw her cock, standing up a little crooked over her cunt. 

“Suck me," she commanded in a hoarse voice. Gerard fucking obeyed.

It had been a while since he'd done the real thing, but this – this he was good at. He knew her cock, knew that dildo, loved the silicone taste of it, mingling with the unmistakable scent of her cunt. He loved how sharp she smelled, no matter what she was wearing – jeans, panties, a harness – he could smell it when she was wet. 

And she was so fucking wet for him right now. 

He gripped the shaft of the dildo and went to fucking town, shutting his eyes, letting her carry the rhythm of it, the strength, the pull. He didn't worry about his teeth, letting them drag up and down, drooling onto his hand, tongue getting numb with each stroke. 

“Fuck, you're so fucking hot when you suck dick," she muttered above him. It was all he could do not to go for her cunt with his fingers, but he knew better than that. So he sucked and he licked until his lips grew ragged and hot. His eyes stung from the pull of her hand in his hair. “God, Gee, look at you – oh my God –“

He preened mentally, and found enough coordination to wiggle his ass a bit, feeling exposed, his panties trapping his thighs. He heard her surprised laugh and opened his eyes. He couldn't see her face, of course, but he saw her belly under the folds of his shirt, tattoo just visible over the lines of the harness. _Jesus Christ_. He swallowed and resisted her next push down. 

She released him immediately and he pulled off. “Really, _really_ need you to fuck me," he managed through his sore throat. “Like, right now. Please, Linds, please –“

She pulled him to her by his hair. “Get the – the stuff," she mumbled against his mouth before slipping her tongue into the kiss, their teeth clashing. He barely noticed the pain.

He almost tripped over himself in his rush to get to the bedside drawer, and cursed and swore, a chorus of profanity as Lindsey struggled with her jacket behind him. By the time he turned around, triumphant lube and condoms in hand, she was watching him with huge eyes, hair wild around her face, his shirt sagging around her torso in a way that was somehow more pornographic than anything they'd done until that very moment.

“Shit," he said. “You're so fucking hot."

She looked just like herself now, his shirt falling off one shoulder, exposing one breast to the nipple. Her hips looked prominent in his jeans, somehow, fuller, and her cock stood out between the V of the zipper. She watched him quietly back. 

It was weird, hearing her rip open the condom. They really only kept them around for this, bare-backing every other time. He shut his eyes and rolled over onto his stomach, breathing in deeply. Every nerve was jagged. He felt like just a fist around his dick would make him come, his heart hammering unevenly now. He let his mouth drop open and rubbed his cheek against the cool sheet, losing himself in the mindless anticipation. He pictured himself as he was now, lying across the bed in her vest and skirt, panties gone. 

His fingers twitched. 

Lindsey took a while to get him ready. So long, he almost lost his mind. She had sure, strong fingers, and she knew how to use them. Steadily, she fingered him, slow pressure opening him up, forcing him to yield, accept the pleasure overtaking his entire body. He gripped the sheets beneath him, his heart no longer hammering so much as leaping inside his chest, and started to beg. 

“Please, please, please – now, please, now –“

“Shh, baby, shhh." He felt her forehead against his back. The pressure almost hurt. “Hang on," she breathed. 

He hung. Her fingers disappeared. 

“Help me with this," she mumbled a moment later, and he felt the cold, dull tip of the dildo skate against his balls and the inside of his thigh, smearing them with lube. She made a frustrated noise and Gerard groped for the dildo between his thighs. His fingers slipped only once and then he cried out, voice catching, the pressure of her cock so much more than her fingers had been. 

He felt himself lurching to one side, losing his balance, but Lindsey steadied him with an arm around his chest. He gasped and she slid in all the way.

She fucked like she played – strong, steady, with a crazy streak he couldn't fucking get enough of. Her hands were leaving raw marks on him even through the fabric, and when she got frustrated with that, she hiked the vest up, and hiked the top up, and went for his skin. 

He felt like wax, pliable, burning up, molded around her cock and the noises escaping his mouth. She fucked him firmly, small, tiny thrusts, hitting the sweet spot every time, every - _fucking_ \- time, until he was a constant sensation, he lived and breathed in sparks and gasps, his hands the anchors on the bed, her hands the anchors on his hips. 

He heard himself sobbing, and his dick weighed him down, so hard it was painful. 

“You gonna come, Gee?" she whispered in his ear, “Want me to make you come?"

He nodded frantically, trying to breathe through his nose and failing. He wanted to say _please_ and _yes_ and _please, please, please_ , but he was too busy gasping for breath.

She reached around and then his cock was in her fist and Gerard lost all control. Two strokes, and he came and he came and he came – spikes of pleasure that seemed to ripple through his entire nervous system until there was no nervous system to travel. He shuddered, everything suddenly too much, and then his knees gave out.

They collapsed onto the bed.

“Nngh." He felt blood rushing back to his toes and fingertips. His ass and balls and dick all throbbed, a giant beat through his whole body.

After a moment, Lindsey's hot weight left him and she slipped out, murmuring gently when he whimpered. He felt her sweaty hands running down his back. His chest ached. _Jesus._

“ _Jesus,_ " she echoed, falling onto her side beside him. “Oh my God."

Gerard pried his eyes open and saw hers watching him back from an inch away. He swallowed and cracked a smile. “I'm so fucking – I am so fucked out, baby," he mumbled. 

“I know," she grinned, then gasped. “Oh, fuck, that was amazing," she whispered, and it took Gerard way too fucking long to realize she was jerking off beside him. 

“Oh hell, no," he managed and grabbed her hand. “C'mere, c'mere," he mumbled, turning over onto his back and trying to get her to follow. “I'm gonna –“

“What –“

“Sit on my face, come on –“

“Are you –“

“ _Yes_." He was _sure._ He couldn't move, but this – this he could fucking do.

He lay on his back and watched Lindsey struggling to get the jeans off. They got stuck on the boots – she swore – the boots went flying – Gerard tried not to wince.

“Leave it," he whispered when her hands went for the harness buckle. “Please." She changed course and pulled off the condom, instead.

It was so quiet when she climbed up his chest and gripped his shoulders between her knees. He let his tongue slide over her dick, then grabbed her ass and pulled her forward. Her skin was damp with sweat.

The leather straps cut into his cheeks as he ate her out and her cock pressed up against his face. He didn't care. She was dripping. Everything around them smelled of her cunt – she was everywhere, overwhelming. He moaned. His mouth was bruised raw and he was pretty sure his technique was all to shit, but Lindsey twitched and shuddered above him, her voice hoarse and broken, hitching higher and higher with every stroke of his tongue. His thoughts swirled above him somewhere, out in the ether, and all he could feel was her cunt wet on his face, her ass under his hands, and her thighs sweaty on his chest. She was all muscle, taut and tense and gorgeous. He couldn't quite reach her clit, the harness in his way, but she shifted and he knew she'd found a sweet spot, letting the leather get her there.

He moaned against her and slipped his hands until his thumbs were skating over the cunt to ass divide. He felt the sweat gathered at the apex, breathed in, and rubbed the spot where she was throbbing hardest. 

Her voice caught above him and she cried out. Her body released like her strings had been cut. She flooded his face, collapsing forward until her cock was caught between her belly and his forehead. Gerard huffed out a laugh and kissed her. The kiss was half skin, half leather.

“Oh fuck me, that was good," she breathed and slowly sagged backwards, until she was sitting astride his chest, looking down, eyes blacker than black. Her tits pressed up against the shirt, and her collar bone shadows deepened with each breath. A lazy smile spread over her face.

“Mmm." Gerard was pretty sure he looked ridiculous – red and wet and sweating. How she managed to look the way she did after fucking was pretty much a mystery to him. 

“Your lipstick's smeared," she whispered and leaned down to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. He'd forgotten about the lipstick. He'd forgotten about the skirt. He'd forgotten about a lot of things.

“How's my eyeliner?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Lindsey ran a finger over his eyebrow, looking serious. “Could use some work. But not bad for a novice."

Gerard's laugh turned into a cough. “You might need to get off me," he told her.

She made a face at him, but complied, digging her nails into his sides as she did so. Then she sat up, ditched the shirt, and pulled him to her. He buried his face between her soft tits, breathing in her sweat and spunk and skin.

When Gerard woke up, he was naked. 

He winced as he turned onto his side and realized he was also under the covers, and it was dark. Lindsey was lying facing him, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, shoulder just showing over the sheet. 

Gerard smiled and sidled closer until his lips could reach that stretch of skin, inked over long before he knew that shoulder bare.

He turned back over, settling down into his favorite sleeping position, and his gaze fell on his bedside chair. 

Everything was carefully hung up. Her vest, her skirt, her top. His t-shirt and jeans were folded neatly on the seat. His jacket hung over the back. 

Their boots were situated side by side. 

He grinned and closed his eyes again. 

He slept until the morning.

***


End file.
